I Give You This, You Give It Back
by MaydayParade8123
Summary: Drinking and texting Annabeth are two things that go hand in hand. Percy just wants to hold her hand. AU.


Summary: Drinking and texting Annabeth are two things that go hand in hand. Percy just wants to hold her hand.

Author's Note: I am _not_ promoting underage drinking or drinking in general. I'm here for Percy being cute and loving Annabeth, as usual. Make good choices. Get apple juice wasted, you know the drill. This is unedited and all mistakes are just me.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series or any characters I've adopted from it. Axe is mine, otherwise I'm useless._

;;;

Percy's not drunk. He's been pacing himself, being careful. He knows what happens when he drinks too much—-it's happened at least four times before, and he's determined to put a stop to it and prove to himself that he has at least a semblance of self-control left in his body. A few drinks simply is _not_ worth a week's worth of ceaseless teasing from Annabeth and a neverending blush from himself. It's not.

The thing is, everyone's in high spirits. A few weeks from now, Percy and all of his closest friends will be walking across a stage with a diploma in hand (even if it's not even a _real_diploma, which Percy thinks is pointless. Annabeth rolls her eyes at him every time he says so, offers up a resigned _it's just tradition, Percy, don't ask questions)_. So, right. Being careful. Drinking a few sips of alcohol and downing a half glass of water. Percy's fine.

That is, if fine is sulking in the corner and staring sullenly down at his suddenly much less appealing plastic cup of alcohol. Percy mostly falls into the category of a Social Drinker—-only really drinking when he's surrounded by others that are partaking in alcoholic beverages as well. Annabeth knows that, trusts him to make good decisions on his own, but that doesn't mean Percy doesn't spend the majority of his time at parties wishing Annabeth would have tagged along with him._  
_

His friend Axe is over in the far left corner, singing along to what sounds like Carrie Underwood. Even drunk off his ass and probably half-conscious of his actions, Axe still manages to be a better singer than everyone else at the party. Percy envies him.

Axe also isn't in love with his best friend. Percy envies him a little more.

With a sigh of resignation, Percy sets his half-full cup on a table nearby. He's almost positive it'll be knocked over within two minutes, but he can't say that he cares. Percy _hates_ that he goes to this extreme every time he drinks; the alcohol feels good when it blurs his mind just enough to forget all of his predicaments, but feels not as good when he drinks enough to make himself sad.

He sits on Axe's back porch after he finds his way to the sliding glass door. Percy falls a little while he tries to sit down, after all, he's uncoordinated when sober and nearly dysfunctional when drunk. He pulls out his phone, clicks on the all to familiar conversation thread, and attempts to send a 'Hi'. It looks more like a shrimp emoji. Percy's tired.

Regardless, a reply buzzes through. He squints a little.

**Annabeth:** Hi… Taking care of yourself?

Percy groans. He hates when Annabeth cares about him. It makes him care about her more.

**Percy:** yeahh

**Percy:** it gets sboring you knnow

**Percy:** you NEVERR come wiht me

**Annabeth:** Parties aren't really my thing

**Percy:** I KNOW that s whyy you arnet

**Percy:** ehere

A thought comes to him then, and Percy just _knows_ it's a brilliant idea.

**Percy:** and partys arent you4e thibg , but your my thing

"Smooth," he congratulates himself. "Good, good reply." He reaches for a drink that he didn't bring with him, frowning at the empty space beside him before shrugging. It was probably for the best. Usually, around the time he starts texting Annabeth, he decides it's time to cut himself off.

**Annabeth:** Am I?

Percy rolls his eyes.

**Percy:** yea dont be dumbthat why i sadid it

**Annabeth:** Chill with the attitude

Percy smiles dopily down at his phone. He loves her so much. He wants to tell someone that he loves her. He should tell Annabeth, he decides, thumbs already starting the message.

He's halfway through 'love', or at least he hopes he is, when someone jumps on his back and proceeds to latch onto him like a koala bear, making him drop his phone. "Percy!" Axe shouts, right in his ear. "Percy, Percy, Perrrrrrrrrrrrcy, Per—-"

"Wait, wait, wait," Percy mumbles, trying to fumble around for his phone. "That was important, g'off me, Axe."

Axe follows directions, sprawling out on the porch. "I'll bet my left sock that it was Annabeth."

"I don't care what you say," Percy mutters, and _yeah_, maybe Annabeth does have a point. Percy tends to dish out the attitude a little bit more when he's drunk. Finally, he finds his phone, but doesn't get a chance to finish the message before Axe is reaching across him and tapping the screen wildly, laughing to himself like it's the joke of the year.

Percy has to blink a few times before he can read what he—-or rather, Axe—-just sent to Annabeth.

**Percy:** i lovfwiowsadgnjlk

He stares at it for a second before shrugging and pocketing his phone. If anything could sum up his feelings, it's an (not-so) artfully done keysmash.

;;

When Percy wakes up the next morning, halfway on the couch and halfway on a coffee table, his immediate reaction is to groan. It makes his head hurt worse, though, so he decides not to do that. As far as hangovers go, it's far from his worst. (The worst one had _definitely_ been the night after Annabeth went on a date with that one guy, Kent or Jeff or Joseph or Whatever-The-Fuck-His-Name-Was to see a movie.)

He does, however unfortunately, have a recollection of his brief conversation with Annabeth. Which is just. Top notch, really, he couldn't be more proud of himself.

His first mission is to find his phone, followed by drinking eighteen gallons of water, or at least enough to convince himself that something didn't die in his mouth last night. His phone is thankfully lodged in between two couch cushions (he's found it in much worse places, i.e. Axe's boxers, and there are some things that should stay a mystery, Percy thinks).

He has three messages from Annabeth. One is just three question marks in a row, followed by a '_Please don't drive home_', and finishing off with a '_Call me when you can.'__  
_

The last one sounds serious. Percy's not here for serious. He shuffles into Axe's kitchen like it's his second home (his second home is Annabeth's house, though, but Axe's house probably ranks as home three or four) and proceeds to drink eight glasses of water. Once he's hydrated, he dials Annabeth. She has to pick him up, anyways.

She answers right before it goes to voicemail. "Yeah, yeah, I'm en route as we speak. Need me to grab anything from your house? Want Taco Bell? Medicine?"

Percy smiles despite the lag in his motions. "We can get Taco Bell after I bathe, please. I think I'll be fine without the medicine, though. What did you need me to call you about?"

"I needed you to call me at 3 A.M., not 3 P.M.," Annabeth says, and Percy sighs, trying to make it sound irritated as opposed to fond. He probably doesn't do the best job of it.

"Chill with the attitude," Percy mocks, quoting Annabeth's new favorite saying.

"Chill with the attitude," she agrees morosely. "I'll be there in twenty."

She makes it there in fifteen, saving Percy from cleaning duty. Axe is probably still snoring loudly in his room, a few friends of his with permission to stay over sleeping soundly on various pieces of furniture.

Percy sits in the passenger seat, probably smelling about as good as he feels. Annabeth pats his shoulder in greeting, apparently not brave enough to come closer. _Wise_, Percy thinks. He's in one of those moods where he feels like he could kiss her for an eternity.

"How are you feeling there, bud?" Annabeth asks, turning the radio down. He recognizes the song as one that he definitely put on the last CD he made for her. Percy's heart aches.

"Tired," he admits. "Regretful."

"The usual, then." She does, however, look sympathetic. "You could always start going to the library with me instead."

Percy raises an eyebrow at her. "Do I look like libraries are my thing?"

Annabeth shrugs. "Yeah, but I'm your thing, apparently, so if I'm present doesn't that make libraries your thing by association?"

Percy whines, slouching down in his seat. "Don't use big words. They make me feel small."

She pats his head, probably knowing that he couldn't care less about her word choice, but, rather, he's trying to avoid the conversation. "The texts don't go away just because you ignore them," she reminds him, just like she does every time he tries this tactic.

He considers childishly mocking her, but instead decides he's far too comfortable to be petulant. Annabeth keeps her hand resting in his hair, which can't feel all that soft and inviting at the moment, rubbing his temple every so often.

And so maybe Percy does this every once in a while, drinks a little too much and has Annabeth pick him up with a few incriminating text messages still in her inbox. The alcohol's not worth the headaches and the embarrassment to come, maybe, but it's worth a moment like this, Percy thinks, a moment that's a little soft and hesitant at the edges because there's this _thing_ here that they never really talk about.

Maybe next time will be the time he finally manages to spit it out. For now, Percy leans his head against the center console and listens to Annabeth hum along with the radio.

;;;


End file.
